


Friends in High Places

by FanGirlFascination



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 00:52:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18840283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanGirlFascination/pseuds/FanGirlFascination
Summary: Bruce and Christine have been indulging in a secret relationship out of the camera spotlight. When one public dinner changes all of that they are suddenly bombarded with demands from their friends to meet them.The solution?Invite them ALL to dinner of course!However, they forgot one very important rule.There's always one that turns up to ruin the party.





	Friends in High Places

“My friends want to meet you.”

Bruce looked up from the file in his hand. Christine wasn’t looking at him. If he hadn’t clearly heard it, he would have questioned if she had spoken at all. She was still curled up on the other side of the plush couch, one leg extending over his lap. Her eyes were trained intently on the pages of her book.

He successfully suppressed a grin.

“How long did it take them?”

“About an hour after the article broke.” she answered, straight faced and still staring at the page of her book.

Bruce reached over and plucked the book from her grasp, placing it and his file onto the table next to him.

“Do you wish I had stopped it?” he asked, reaching to pull her other foot into his lap and start kneading at her soles. She moaned happily, not caring at the underhanded distraction tactic. 

“No, not really.” she sighed, hugging her shirt (which had been his shirt, until it had been forcibly claimed by her two weeks previously) closer around her, “It’s just weird. They knew there was someone but now they have a face, and well…” she shrugged, gesturing to his face. “I knew this would happen as soon as we went out in public. Honestly, I’m shocked they allowed us to get though dinner before trying to get their pictures.”

Bruce nodded in agreement. He had also been surprised at the relative restraint showed by the paparazzi once they realised Bruce Wayne had once more stepped out with a girl on his arm.

“This why you left your phone in the car?” he asked, rhetorically. 

She looked guiltily at him, not having realised he had noticed her deliberately abandoning the device.

“I’m not embarrassed.” she insisted,“Just between my Aunt and Uncle, my friends, my co-workers, some co-workers that I’ve never even spoken to! It’s just-”

“-It’s a lot, I know.” Bruce assured her, lifting her leg to press a kiss to her ankle, “Do you want me to meet them?” he asked, bringing her attention back to her original statement.

Her hand twitched like she wanted to reach for him before deciding the distance was too great to put in the effort. Plus, she wasn’t willing to sacrifice the foot massage.

“Of course.” she said, “It’s not you I’m worried about. You deal with Gotham’s ‘elite’ on a daily basis. It’s them that’s the problem.”

“Because?” he prompted, still managing not to grin at her dilemma.

She narrowed her eyes, not taken in by the false ignorance.

“They have enough dirt on me to last from now until judgement day.”

“I don’t see the problem,” he quipped, finally allowing the grin to slip though, “You’ve gotten plenty of leverage on me from Alfred.”

The old butler had been so happy that his master had brought the same young woman home for an intimate dinner for the fourth time in a week, he had almost teared up. A feeling not helped by the young woman insisting that he join them for dinner as she was keen to get to know the man who helped raise Bruce. Alfred only survived the encounter with his dignity intact due to his perfectly regimented British stoicism. Alfred had since enjoyed many delightful times with Christine, spilling as many embarrassing stories of Bruce that sprung to mind.

“Exactly!” she gestured wildly at ceiling in frustration, “The odds of this relationship are so heavily stacked against me I’m taking every advantage I can get. I need to keep my carefully constructed air of mystery if I want to keep your attention. I’ll give you 5 minutes with this lot before you run for the hills.”

Bruce raised a skeptical eyebrow at her, ignoring the comment about their relationship for the time being. She had already aired her views on it many times. It had been one of the reasons she had initially turned him down.

“Carefully constructed air of mystery?” he questioned, sardonically.

She grinned, pulling her ankle out of his grasp, and finally pulled herself up to situate herself on his lap, one leg falling to either side of his. 

“I know,” she sighed heavily, draping her arms around his shoulders “I’m being dramatic. I’m just scared. We’ve got a good thing going here. Letting the ‘real world’ in feels…”

Christine struggled to find the right words to describe how she felt losing the glass bubble reality they had indulged in for the past few months. Bruce leaned in to nuzzle the sensitive spot just under her jawline, attempting to distract her from her worries.

“We’ll be fine sweetheart, I promise.”

“You sure?” she asked, playing idly with the hair at the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to be the one getting shown off for a change.” he smirked, allowing his large hands to curl around the span of her waist as she balanced on top of him.

“You want them to know you’re basically my sugar daddy?” she quipped, grinning evilly.

“I’d agree with you if you actually took any of the money I offer you.” he rebuffed.

“I’m not letting you buy me a car, Bruce.”

“It’s my company!” he argued playfully, “I won’t pay a dime for it.”

“Not the point!” she shrieked, finally laughing as he dug his fingers into her sides to engage a very one-sided tickle war.

Bruce kept up his assault, diving his hands underneath the shirt to get at her skin as she squirmed in a desperate attempt to escape. Bruce only relented once she was gasping for breath and giggling helplessly. Her face was scarlet with exertion and the roaring fire in the hearth before them only served to further warm her normally cool skin. 

“Stop worrying,” he said, flashing his most charming smile at her, “we’ll be fine. Invite them to dinner and we’ll both sit at the table and listen to our friends make fun of us.”

She frowned, not understanding the full extent of his round-about admission. Bruce grinned guiltily before explaining further.

“Your friends aren’t the only one’s asking questions. We might as well get it all over and done with together.” 

“So all this… Bruce, you jerk!” she thumped his arm in outrage.

“I was waiting to see when you would bring it up!” Bruce defended, laughing openly and holding his hands up in surrender.

“So your bright idea is to bring them all together at once!?” she gawked.

“Yeah, maybe they’ll distracted each other and we can escape.” 

“You’re a moron. This is a bad idea.” she huffed.

“I have been known to have them from time to time,” he admitted.

“I choose Alfred for my team.” she said stubbornly. 

Bruce, deciding she’d been on top of him for too long not to take advantage, slowly worked up the buttons of the stolen shirt, sliding each one loose with skillful fingers as he softly kissed her lips in a painfully gentle kiss.

“But I want you on my team.” he murmured, his warm breath tickling her skin, “Will you protect me?”

“You smooth motherfu-” her reluctant, aroused moan was cut off with a yelp as he suddenly stood up with her cradled safely in his arms. Her legs were wrapped securely around him as her exposed skin tingled with excitement against the friction of his clothes. She giggled in approval and allowed Gotham’s homegrown prince to carry her away to bed. 

******************************

Three days later Bruce chuckled as he watched the whirlwind that was Christine Cartwright trying to get ready for their potentially misguided dinner plans. He was almost impressed as she straightened her hair with one hand and flung different items of clothes over the room with the other. 

Christine typically left everything till the last second and tonight had been no different. She had spent almost all her planning time with Alfred, helping him plan the dishes, do the shopping and even start cooking. Eventually, Alfred had ejected her from the kitchen and barred her from re-entry. Realising the time she had then began the familiar panic. Thus, Hurricane Christine began her destructive path through the bathroom and bedroom. 

As she ranted to herself about how time clearly had a vendetta against her, Bruce calmly gathered the clothes strewn around the room and placed them all neatly back in the designated space that she had claimed in the past few months of their relationship. As he accepted the role of damage control officer Bruce couldn’t help but run an appreciative eye down her form, which was currently adorned in a black lace bra and black cotton panties. Clearly being unsuccessful in her quest for something decent to wear Christine had turned her attention to finishing her half-done makeup, resolving to try again once the make up and hair tasks were conquered.

“I did manage to get the girls to promise not to get their hair and makeup professionally done, but I can’t speak for the guys. They may still turn up in tuxes. I swear, with how they were panicking, you’d think they were having dinner with the president!” she ranted, remembering to switch off her straighteners on the dresser as she swept a sweet peach blush over her cheeks with the other hand.

“Well thank God you’re above that level of panic.” Bruce quipped, flicking through the choices of clothes available. He himself had been ready for the past half hour.

“Very funny.” she drawled, focusing on making sure her eye makeup was at least sort of even on each side. 

He waited till she put her makeup brush down before gripping her elbow and turning her to face him. Her eye flashed in confusion before she smiled as he held out the dress he had selected for her.

The midnight blue fabric kissed her skin as she allowed him to slip the flowing fabric over her head. The 3/4 sleeves showcased her slim wrists, the left of which was adored with a simple silver bracelet he had given her the previous month. The bodice hugged her chest and nipped in at her waist before flowing out to a pretty simple skirt that fell to just below her knees. It was simple and elegant and one of her favourites. It had been the dress she wore to their first date.

“Thank you.” she smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“You’re welcome.” he grinned back.

She quickly turned and swiped up two tube of lipsticks, holding them up in front of his face.

“Red or pink?” she asked.

“Hmm, well-” he started.

“- I swear Bruce if you tell me neither of them are your colour I won’t kiss you all night.” she glared.

Bruce laughed before kissing her ardently, not concerned about the threat at all. Christine blissfully responded before a chime from her phone prompted them to separate, Bruce pecked on last kiss to her lips before muttering:

“Pink.”

Christine giggled and swatted him away to focus on painting her already reddened lips with the pale pink pigment.

“What does it say?” she asked, focusing on her reflection.

Bruce pick up her phone, glancing at the notification.

“Uh…” was all he uttered.

Christine turned to him, thrown off by the unusual sound of a seriously confused Bruce Wayne.

“Bruce?” she asked.

“Um.” he tried again, this time forcing out the rest of the sentence. “It says “We’re sorry. She’s coming.”

Even though she was already standing still, Bruce saw Christine visibly tense. Whoever ‘she’ was, Christine was clearly not happy about her coming to dinner.

“… What’s wrong?” Bruce asked, crossing to her and taking her into his arms.

“It’s nothing,” she croaked, shaking her head and trying to push him away, “really, it’ll be fine.”

“You wanna try that line again?” he asked, standing his ground, “maybe you’ll convince yourself that you meant it.”

Christine checked the time and shook her head.

“It’s too late. There’s no time to explain. It’ll be ok.” she muttered, turning to grab a pair of black ballet flats from her shoe stash in the corner of his room, all neatly lined up by Alfred.

Bruce knelt in front of her as she slid her feet into the shoes, forcing her to look at him.

“Try.” he said simply.

Christine regarded him with careful consideration, weighing her situation before sighing heavily.

“It’s my cousin.” she finally admitted, “Somehow she’s found out about tonight. The guys are texting me to warn me. We didn’t invite her, but we can’t outright tell her she isn’t wanted.”

“Why not?” he asked, taking her hands in his and softly stroking her thumb.

“Remember I told you I was raised by my Aunt and Uncle after my parents died?” she asked.

Bruce nodded. He did know that her parents died when she was a teenager but had never questioned her about it. She had afforded him the same privacy and had never asked him about the night his parents had died. Both silently agreeing they would tell each other when they felt more comfortable, but for now the details were unimportant. 

“Well, Jo is their daughter.” she continued, “and uh… she doesn’t like me very much.”

Bruce stayed quiet, waiting for her to elaborate but Christine checked the time again and shook her head.

“Look, long story short: she doesn’t like me and is probably here to cause trouble. I don’t want to upset my Aunt and Uncle, so we let her in and play nice, ok?!” the words tripped over themselves as she rushed to get them out. 

“Christine-” Bruce started but stopped when he saw the look in her eyes. “…Fine. We’ll do it your way, but if you want her gone-”

“No Bruce,” she cut him off, “trust me. She’ll sell a story about you violently throwing her out of Wayne Manor before she’s walked to the end of the drive. I guarantee you, the only reason she’s doing this is because she saw the article. She’s doesn’t like me and I suddenly get to be the Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend? She’s here to cause trouble, don’t give it to her.”

“Alright,” Bruce hushed her, cupping both sides of her neck to ground her into focusing on him. Her hands gently grasped his wrists as she drew a deep calming breath. “I’ll follow your lead. I promise.”

She nodded in agreement and he took her hands to guide her back into a standing position. 

“Come on, Gorgeous.” he said, leading her out the room, tugging her away from one last check in the mirror, “Let’s go indulge in this very bad idea.”

******************************  
They were both wrong.

This was not a bad idea at all. Everyone was getting along great. 

Well, everyone who mattered.

Christine had made sure her cousin knew where her place was as soon as she stepped into the room. Jo had made the mistake of assuming Alfred would be serving them, and had barked an order to take her coat. Christine hadn’t taken kindly to the action and had informed Jo sharply that the coat rack that held everyone else’s coat was within her own reach. She had then politely requested that an extra place be set at the table, making sure that Jo knew that the extra place was for her and not Alfred.

Due to Christine’s wish to keep Alfred with them, the duo had created a buffet of different foods that spread with grandeur over the long dining table. This prevented the need to serve different courses individually, giving the butler some idea of a night off.

The relaxed atmosphere worked, and everyone happily indulged as much as they wanted. Christine’s friends had very quickly dropped the overly polite, in-the-presence-of-royalty mannerisms and, as predicted, started trying to tease and embarrass their friend.

Thankfully, in her opinion, they liked Bruce. 

He didn’t even really need to try. His natural charm and charisma sucked them all in and by the time the first half hour of conversation was up, all four of her friends were impressed. Nobody was going to willingly admit they were concerned about the ‘Playboy’ character they worried their friend had fallen for. But everyone at the table could see the couple genuinely cared for each other.

Christine wasn’t dumb. She knew they were testing Bruce. But with every dumb childhood story, Bruce just laughed with delight. With every embarrassing teenage escapade, he recounted one of his own to match. Even when Mark: blond and handsome with a boyish grin and wicked sense of humour, recounted the short, ill-advised, amount of time he and Christine had dated, Bruce had merely caught up her hand and pressed a loving kiss to her knuckles.

“I guess that makes me the lucky one then.” he murmured, capturing her gaze with his.

Kari, Emily and Robert all swooned. Christine tried to suppress the blush that blazed over her cheeks but couldn’t stop the bashful grin.

Bruce, at this point, was steadfastly ignoring the teasing grins coming from the Justice League as they waited for their moment to pounce.

He was pleased that they liked her. However, as much he would deny wanting their approval, Bruce was happy they were getting along. It would possibly allow things to go much smoother once he was ready to admit his greatest secret.

Diana had adored Christine from the second she saw her. Walking through the door she had immediately flung her arms around the girl, telling her how impressed she was that Christine had held her ground until she was sure Bruce had been serious about her. And after seeing the way Christine had defended Alfred from Jo, Bruce was sure Diana was ready to adopt her on the spot.

Bruce had seen Christine tense as the beautiful Amazonian crossed the threshold. He had seen the insecurities start to emerge only to be replaced by utter confusion. She looked at him with wide eyes as Diana had embraced her. A small grin had appeared on her lips when Diana congratulated her on turning down Bruce the first time he had asked her out. He had told Diana that Christine had agreed after the third offer of coffee. A lie quickly corrected by Christine when she doubled the number. Diana rolled her eyes and grinned at Bruce.

“Not used to working for it, huh?”

And Christine relaxed. 

If Bruce had slept with Diana, she would have definitely made him work for it. Christine saw Diana for the ally she was, and she welcomed the feeling of not being judged. She did worry that Bruce’s guests would feel everything the papers were currently saying about her. Too young, too poor, gold digger, air head, etc …

In one interaction Diana soothed those fears. Arthur and Barry were close behind, both enveloping the sweet girl in friendly hugs, Arthur telling her to blink twice if it was all a trap and she needed rescuing from the broody old man in the corner.

Bruce had rolled his eyes and extracted a giggling Christine back into his own arms.

Once everyone was settled, Christine mentally started a timer.

The peace couldn’t last forever, surely.

And sure enough-

“-I saw a report on The Batman last night,” Kari stated, slyly grinning at Christine, who violently rolled her eyes.

“40 minutes.” she quipped, “You have more self-restraint than I gave you credit for.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked a confused Barry, who’s confusion was echoed by the expressions of Bruce, Arthur, Diana, Lois and Clark. Alfred had the restraint to not show confusion but he was definitely curious at the comment.

Kari, Mark, Robert and Emily however, merely grinned evilly at Christine, who tried her best to look unimpressed.

Jo Fellows, Christine’s bitter and, so far, silent cousin sat up slightly in her chair.

“Bruce, my man!” exclaimed Robert dramatically, “don’t tell me she hasn’t warned you about your competition.”

“Robert.” Christine growled in a half-hearted warning. They were going to tell him whether she wanted them to or not.

“Competition?” echoed Bruce, turning a mirthful gaze on her as he guessed the direction of the conversation.

“Oh yeah,” Emily joined in, ignoring Christine trying to stamp on her foot to silence her, “if The Batman walked through those doors right now, she’d jumped into his arms and leave you without a second glance.”

“Guys?!” Christine groaned in embarrassment as the table erupted with laughter. Even Barry, Clark and Arthur were laughing, Diana and Alfred refrained from outright laughter but couldn’t stop their wry smirks.

Even Bruce was chuckling, gently.

Why the hell was it so funny?! 

Sure her friends teased her about her “Bat-crush” all the time, but Bruce and his friends didn’t know anything about it! 

“Come on!” she defended, “I had-”

“Have,” corrected Mark, being promptly ignored by Christine.

“-a crush on The Batman. I was hardly the only one.”

“She used to wait until the bat signal was activated then go up to the roof to see if she could see him.” Kari laughed.

“As I recall I wasn’t the only one up there!” she shot back.

“We were making sure you didn’t jump off a building trying to catch him!” Emily giggled. 

Christine, through sheer determination not to seem childish, refrained from slumping back and crossing her arms in a tantrum.

“What’s so great about Batman?” asked Arthur, grinning wildly, “surely Aquaman is the better hero?”

“Nope, it’s Wonder Woman,” Kari shot back, and Christine gave up, resorting to putting her head down on the table as the familiar argument erupted around her. Only this time it had 10 participants instead of the usual 5. 

While she would normally be vehemently arguing on how great Batman was, this time around she elected to stay quiet. Bruce was also quiet, which she found odd because he was a known sponsor of Batman. However, the large hand caressing her hair made her look up and she realised the reason Bruce hadn’t joined in the conversation was because he was focused on her. 

She looked into his eyes and was relieved to see amusement rather than any negative emotion that she had become used to.

She had been involved with guys that had immediately dumped her once they realised they were “in competition” with Gotham’s Guardian. Honestly, their girlfriend has a tiny unrealistic crush and suddenly their worth as a man is called into question?!

However, if anyone could handle a potential “romantic threat”, she supposed it would be Bruce.

“It’s just a crush.” she murmured, still embarrassed.

Bruce cupped his hand around the back of her head and drew her into a sweet kiss. She allowed her eyes to flutter closed and enjoyed the victory of Bruce dodging the last land mine her friends had thrown at him.

She became aware of the relative silence around the table and broke away from Bruce’s kiss to investigate. Clearly, the conversationalists had decided her and Bruce’s little affectionate show was more entertaining than the “which superhero is the best?” argument. They were all grinning like idiots.

“You know, you guys could audition to be part of the Joker’s crew, right?” she asked, in a poor attempt to deflect the situation.

A couple of them drew breath to commence the inevitable teasing, when her eyes caught the face of the one person who wasn’t smiling.

Christine’s smiled dropped a split second before Jo’s words dragged the entire mood to an icy halt.

“Yeah,” she started, a mocking grin stretching her lips “well, you should join too. Only a psychopath would develop a crush on the man who killed her parents.”

All laughter stopped.

Christine gripped Bruce’s hand and force herself to take three deep breaths. 

“Jo,” she started slowly, training her gaze to the table so she wouldn’t have to look at her cousin. “that’s not fair or true, and you know it.”

Barry was the one who spoke, looking horrified :-

“The Batman killed-?”

“No!” she cut him off harshly.

Bruce let go of her hand and she looked at him, missing the warmth. His handsome features had hardened to a mask of affected calm. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. A quick look to everyone else also revealed various displays of emotion, ranging from sympathy to abject horror. She could understand her friends reacting in such a way. She had never told them about her parents’ deaths either. But why Bruce and his friends were so affected by the revelation was beyond her.

She turned her glare to Jo, who was looking happily smug at the disruption she was causing.

“Happy now?” she asked, bitterly.

“Not quite,” Jo admitted, “but it’s a start.”

Christine flexed her knuckles, desperate to scream or lash out. She leashed her temper firmly and tried to find a way to salvage the bad turn the night had taken.

“Jo,” she tried again patiently. “You can’t say things like that, you weren’t there. You don’t know what-”

“So The Batman was there!” gasped Kari, before immediately looking sheepish at the excited outburst.

“Yes,” Christine admitted. 

Jo smirked triumphantly.

“I thought The Bat was meant to save people.” she stated snidely.

“He did,” Christine said softly. “He saved me.”

“1 out of 3 and you still call him a hero?” Jo shot back, settling back in her chair as her arms crossed in triumph.

Christine struggled to make eye contact with anyone at the table now and was aware of how deathly still everyone appeared to be. She didn’t want to broadcast what had happened that night; had done everything in her power to move on from it. But Jo was throwing every spanner in the works and Christine knew she had to defend herself.

Jo continued on despite Christine trying to ignore her taunts.

“I remember when you came to live with us. All those days spent in your room. How long did it take you to walk outside the front door? 5 months?”

“7… 7 months.” Christine admitted, ashamed.

“Your pathetic obsession with that hero started on the night he failed to save your parents.” Jo continued, “all those days hidden under your covers! Just crying about how pathetic your life was!” 

Jo was on a roll now, heading for her destination that she’d been aiming for since deciding to come to dinner. 

“And what…” she giggled cruelly, “what was the only thing that made you feel ‘safe’?”

“The Bat Signal,” Christine confessed, fighting back angry tears.

This was Jo’s plan. To disgrace her in front of Bruce. Jo didn’t like the fact that Christine had gotten her life together; had moved on from that scared, vulnerable girl that had only found the solace of sleep when she knew The Dark Knight was out protecting Gotham’s streets.

She had a job she hated working in retail, but she adored her charity project of providing safe shelter for abused kids in Gotham. She had a group of great friends which Jo had repeatedly tried to claim as her own.

The one thing Jo had always held over Christine was the fact that her job allowed her to move out to her own place. Christine couldn’t afford to work the hours needed at the shelter and have a full-time job, so she still lived with her Aunt and Uncle. Jo must have seen the article about her and Bruce and saw that one advantage she had slip away.

Jo was trying to show the worst side of her cousin in order to get Bruce to leave her. 

Christine knew her reaction to her parents’ deaths had caused Jo and her family trouble. Specifically, financial trouble. Between food, bills, school fees and everything else, her Aunt and Uncle had inherited a second child with very little financial support. The therapy sessions Christine had required also hadn’t helped. The resulting frugal lifestyle they had been forced to adopt had impacted Jo tremendously. Not only did she have to share her parents; she had to share her room, her clothes, her possessions and get used to not being an only child.

The resulting resentment against Christine had tainted their once close relationship.

And now Jo was here for revenge. To make Bruce see that Christine would be an unworthy drain on his money. That she couldn’t support herself so would eventually have to rely on him. That her unstable nature could result in a relapse which would cost him dearly if he tried to help. Jo was trying to make Bruce believe Christine would only use him for his money.

Exactly like the papers were saying.

By using her cousin’s obsession with Batman, Jo had utilised a tried-and-proved method of making people question Christine’s state of mind. Especially when she poisoned the tale with the lie of Batman being responsible for her parent’s deaths.

Bruce, so far, had not said or done anything. Christine hoped it was only because he was listening to her instructions about not getting involved… and not because he believed Jo.

She sighed heavily and began her defense.

“Batman couldn’t have saved them,” she started, still looking firmly at the table, jaw clenched, “Falcone’s men burst into the store and opened fire. Mom and Dad were standing in the entrance. He was buying her flowers.”

She briefly looked up at her audience. They were all listening intently. Jo was clearly starting to seethe in anger at Christine’s failure to get visibly angry.

“Even the Flash couldn’t have gotten there in time.” Christine muttered weakly.

“…And where were you?” the soft question came from Diana, who was looking at her with kind encouragement. 

“Further in.” she answered, “at the clothing section. We had been playing a board game at home. Dad won. Mom said he was being a bit of a jerk about it so he should buy us something nice to make up for it.”

“Was he?” Kari asked.

“All good fun,” Christine assured her, “Mom just wanted new flowers because she had guests coming over the next morning. But I jumped on board… I wanted a new dress. I’m sure my Dad was thinking about getting me a magazine or something but… well, I thought I’d chance my arm and try for a bigger prize.”

She allowed herself a small smile at the memory, but it dropped again.

“I was browsing through the dresses when I heard the shots. People started screaming and I just… panicked. I hid in between the skirts of the dresses.”

The rest of the story was obvious. She had told them who killed her parents and it wasn’t Batman. Still, as Bruce gently reclaimed her hand, she felt the need to continue.

“I heard them moving around the store. They were looking for the owner. Apparently, he owed Falcone money. But I wasn’t the only one who had hidden. I don’t know how long I stayed there… ten minutes, maybe? But I heard them getting closer, I couldn’t run, and I couldn’t scream. They started pushing each other around, arguing because they hadn’t found the guy and the police might have been on their way.”

She hadn’t planned this. Hated that this was her first meeting with Bruce’s friends. She had desperately wanted to make a good impression. She wished she had listened to Bruce and not allowed Jo in. However, no one appeared to be holding her tale against her. Even Jo had been rendered speechless. Her plan was back-firing. She hadn’t had the full story.

“The goons split up… one got closer to me… he… smelled. One of Falcone’s gutter rats probably. Still… he eventually got frustrated and fired his gun into the air.”

Bruce gripped her hand tightly, probably guessing what had happened next. 

“I screamed,” she confirmed, gripping him back, “not for long but enough to alert the guy I was there.”

“What did you do?” Barry asked, wide eyed.

“Nothing,” she scoffed bitterly “I was useless. I completely froze” 

She paused again, swallowing harshly. 

“It only took him seconds to find me.”

“He didn’t just shoot?” Clark asked, his handsome face furrowed in concern.

“I’ve wondered about that. Best I can think of is either he thought it might have been the owner they were looking for… or…”

“He guessed it was a girl by the scream?” Emily guessed; eyes wide in horror at the implication.

“That’s my guess,” she nodded, “he crouched down in front of me and grabbed my ankle. Told me that he could have a lot of fun with me.” 

She snarled bitterly at the memory of his greasy, dirty hand on her skin. 

The putrid smell of the Gotham back alley’s had clung to him and his breath had reeked of decay. She had been too scared to be sick from the smell. That had come later, retching in a corner every time she passed an entrance to Gotham’s back alleys. Christine remembered curled up in the tub that night trying to scrub away the feeling of the dirt she felt clinging to the soft skin of her leg. She had felt the cold floor rub painfully against her skin as her shirt had ridden up when the scum had dragged her towards him.

“Christine.” she heard Mark breath, unsure of what to say.

“Did he…?” Clark began to ask but trailed off.

Christine shook her head before finally allowing a semblance of a smile through.

“He had barely finish speaking before Batman turned up.”

“Batman stopped him?” breathed Kari.

“Dragged the guy off me and knocked him out.” Christine nodded, a soft, wistful expression glazed over her features. “He didn’t even make a sound.”

“What happened?!” Robert asked, eagerly. 

Christine didn’t blame him. As much as they teased her for her hero worship, they all admired The Batman. 

“The sirens were coming. The manager had managed to get to a phone to call GCPD.” she said, “The other goon started shouting for his partner that they had to go. Batman looked at me and signaled for me to be quiet.”

“What was he like?!”

“He was like Batman!” Christine rolled her eyes at Emily’s excitement, “Big and scary, really intimidating. He didn’t speak but…” she paused, trying to choose her words carefully. To adequately describe how she had felt when Batman had saved her. “… I felt safe. I knew I wasn’t gonna die.”

“What happened to the other guy?” Barry asked.

“After he made sure I wasn’t gonna scream, Batman disappeared again.” she continued.

“Disappeared?” questioned Kari.

“Hmm.” Christine nodded. “I meant it when I said he was quiet. He’s a big guy but he moved like a shadow. He was there one second, and the next… I couldn’t see him. But he must have allowed the other guy to see him. I heard a shout, a gunshot and then a crash. I think he threw the guy into one of the displays. Then I heard the managers voice thanking Batman for saving him, over and over again. He was babbling.”

“I don’t get it though.” Arthur said, not unkindly but with definite cynicism, “Your parents still died. I get that he saved you but… where does the…” he struggled for the right word for a minute. “… adoration come into it?” 

Christine smiled softly. Hearing him say her parents died didn’t hurt her. She’d long accepted it. 

“It wasn’t the fact that he saved me that made me admire him.” she said, raising almost every eyebrow around the table. “It was what he did after.”

“Which was?” prompted Kari.

“He came back for me.” she told them. “He didn’t leave me. He completely ignored the owner of the shop and came back to find me. He crouched down in front of me and held out his hand. He still didn’t say anything but again… he made me feel safe. Once I took his hand, he scooped me into his arms, tucked my head against his shoulder and walked with me out the front door.”

“Uh, I still don’t get it.” Mark admitted, sheepishly

Christine took a second to glance at Bruce. He was looking unseeingly down at his plate. Christine was aware that her next point could be painful for him. Batman had given her a gift Bruce hadn’t received. 

“GCPD were just outside the door … Batman didn’t have to come back. The police would have found me, taken care of me. But he did come back… He carried me out the building and put me in the hands of GCPD himself. He tucked my head to his shoulder and refused to let me move.” She took a breath and finally verbalised her point. “Batman made sure my last image of my parents wasn’t of them laying dead on the ground.” she said, squeezing Bruce’s hand gently to try and convey her sympathy for his very different experience.

Bruce looked back at her, a glimmer of emotion fracturing the mask. She opened her mouth, trying to conjure up some expression of comfort suitable enough, but-

“Probably didn’t want you to see his failure?” came the inevitable biting comment.

Christine’s temper pulled taut and she whipped a glare to her malicious cousin. To be fair, she wasn’t the only one. Jo had completely misjudged her situation and now everyone appeared to have a problem with her presence.

“Christine just told you what happened.” Emily tried to placate everyone, “Surely you don’t still blame Batman?”

“It’s his job.” Jo said simply, although she was starting to take note of the hateful glances being sent her way.

“So, on top of everything else we expect him to do for this city, he’s supposed to be psychic now as well?!” Christine snapped, finally letting her anger seep through. “Honestly Jo, listen to yourself! Do you have any idea how unreasonable you sound right now?!”

“Fine!” Jo shot to her feet leaning threateningly towards her. “If you’re so keen on protecting The Bat, who will we blame?” 

Christine’s hand clamped down on Bruce’s as she felt him begin to move. 

“How about the sewer rat with the machine gun?” Christine suggested venomously “Or Falcone and Sullivan or any other maniac that swans through this city thinking they own it?”

“Or maybe…” Jo grinned horribly. “Some people should have been smart enough to realise how stupid their idea of going shopping at that time of night was! Maybe if your Dad hadn’t-”

Christine’s fist slammed on the table and she drew herself up to meet her cousin face-to-face. Fury raged through her veins, her pulse pounded loudly in her ears and she fought to keep the red mist from her vision.

“Think very carefully about your next sentence, if you want to leave here with your teeth intact tonight.” Christine growled.

Jo opened her mouth to continue the vengeful accusation, but was drawn short by the venom in Christine’s eyes. She knew Jo was remembering the fighting classes she had taken in an attempt to learn to defend herself. It had been a suggestion of her therapist. Christine wouldn’t seriously hurt her. But Jo was a coward.

“I wish the Bat had let you die,” Jo spat.

The occupants of the table couldn’t remain quiet as they all voiced a some form of protest, from pained gasps of shock to outraged shouts of objection. Christine threw a hand out to silence them. Once they had settled down, Christine looked her cousin dead in the eye and smirked.

“Clever girl,” she said, condescension dripping from her voice, “you went for the lesser insult. You’re smarter than I give you credit for.”

Jo visibly fumed. Christine gave a forcefully exhale to attempt to bring her temper back under control, certain Jo wouldn’t trying anything further. Jo had failed to captivate her chosen audience. 

“Now, please leave.” Christine said, firmly.

The silence that followed was tense as Jo’s gaze swept over the table. Christine’s stomach churned with nerves as she considered the possibility Jo might decide to continue the assault. But Jo simply huffed and turned on her heel, stalking to the door with her nose in the air. Christine let out a shuddering sigh and braced her knuckles on the table, head hanging low and eyes closed.

So she wasn’t aware when Jo turned back around.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if your parents threw themselves in front of those bullets. If it meant getting away from you.” 

Christine had dealt with a lot of anger issues since her parents died. She knew Jo was lashing out in anger. Was fully aware that her extreme hostile behaviour was the cumulation of years of pent up resentment. Christine even knew that the comment was probably designed to hurt, rather than reveal an honest opinion.

It didn’t matter.

Every rational thought left her as she took off after her fleeing cousin.

She felt the cool tile under her feet as she raced towards her target, her shoes having been abandoned in favour of speed. Her hair danced wildly around her, disturbed by the erratic movement. She felt Kari’s fingers graze her arm as she reached to stop her but dodged the grip. She didn’t know who was following. She didn’t care. Her targeted gaze was fixed solely on Jo’s back as her cousin grabbed her coat and wrenched open the door.

Christine was fast and had gained ground easily on her cousin. Christine reached out a hand, feeling the silky strands of Jo’s hair taunt her grip before a pair of strong arms clamped themselves around her, effectively stopping her hunt.

“Bruce, let go!!!” she yelled, struggling in his grip. She didn’t need to ask who had caught her.

“Sweetheart, stop!” Bruce implored her. “You’ll regret it if you hurt her. You know you will!”

Christine elected not to listen, continuing to struggle against the steel bands that kept her cousin safe. She could see Jo getting further away. She hadn’t yet been brave enough to take out her phone to record them. 

Christine tried to free herself from Bruce’s hold, but her adrenaline spike wore off too quickly. Her erratic thrashing ceased enough for Bruce to turn her towards him, morphing the restraining cage into a firm embrace as she crumpled against him. The tears of stress trickled down her face and she tried to squirm away, aware of getting smudged make-up on his shirt.

Bruce was having none of it, cupping the side of her face to force her to burrow into his chest. Eventually, her squirming ceased, and she resigned herself to pathetically sobbing against him. Anger, embarrassment and stress finally breaking her down to the useless mess Jo knew she was. 

It was over.

Jo had won.

******************************

Christine leaned heavily against the frame of the terrace doors, taking slow deep breaths and nursing the mug of tea Alfred had affectionately pushed into her grip before he retired for the night. A small smile graced her lips a she remembered how the old butler had fondly chucked her chin before bidding her and Bruce goodnight.

She had been so sure the events of the night had been unsalvageable. The shame of her behaviour had haunted every step back to the group that had formed behind them, Bruce’s grip doing little to comfort her. Her gaze had been firmly trained on the floor when she had opened her mouth to apologise; to explain she had known the risk and thought she could handle Jo’s presence. She had wanted to ask for forgiveness for losing her temper so violently, no doubt causing the rest of the group to feel awkward.

She didn’t get the chance.

Kari, Emily, Mark and Robert had immediately descended on her, all but pushing Bruce out the way. They had been over flowing with apologies for their mistake in letting Jo know about the dinner and for not being harsh enough in stopping her from coming with them. 

Despite the reaction from her friends she was more worried about the reactions of Bruce’s friends, Alfred and Bruce himself.

Again, she needn’t have worried.

Bruce had been the first one to soothe her fears. Gently extracting her from the huddle of her friends, Bruce had guided her upstairs to the bedroom. He used the time while she was distracted with washing tear tracks off her face to change his shirt, which had indeed been smudged with makeup and tears. He had even added a waistcoat this time, purely because he knew she liked him wearing them.

Bruce had then asked if she had wanted to go back downstairs.

Her hesitation had been enough to signal to Bruce how she felt about the situation. He had immediately scooped her into his arms and dropped her onto the bed. She had only blinked in confusion when he climbed on after her and drew her to him.

Bruce had smiled at her expression and told her they could spend the rest of the night snuggling in bed if that’s what she wanted to do. At her questioning of the group they had effectively abandoned downstairs. Bruce had shrugged, stating they could take care of themselves and his priority was her.

Finally, she had smiled and rolled out of his embrace, slipping off the bed and asking for a few minutes to fix her makeup. She had allowed him to push her against the wall and kiss her breathless before re-applying her lipstick.

By the time they rejoined the group, they had migrated from the dining room to the drawing room. Lois, Clark and Mark were deep in conversation. Mark was in heaven because he was talking to proper journalists, a career he was trying to carve for himself.

Robert and Kari were shamelessly flirting with Arthur who seemed to be amused with the attention. Bruce had whispered that eventually Arthur would admit he had a girlfriend, which made her giggle.

Alfred, Emily, Barry and Diana had been the first to notice the couple enter.

The rest of the night had been dedicated to moving past the incident at dinner with as little fanfare as possible. Barry and Mark entered into a ping pong tournament that hadn’t officially yielded a victor since the rules had been discarded fairly quickly.

Diana had sat Christine down on scatter cushions thrown on the floor whilst demanding an explanation of her charity work. As she had talked, Diana had sat behind Christine combing her hair back into an intricate braided hairstyle.

Clark and Lois had also been interested in her work and requested to come back to interview her officially. Both were keen on looking into the aspect of helping kids from abused families. Christine eagerly agreed, saying they could do with the publicity.

But through it all, Christine eventually settled herself next to Bruce, curled up at his side and watching everyone enjoy the rest of the night. Bruce similarly seemed to not be particularly interested in getting involved, content to hold her close and steal the odd kiss from her.

Eventually, tiredness began to settle over everyone else and they bid their hosts farewell. As they filed out every single one of them pulled Christine into a hug, something she certainly didn’t mind as it proved that she was worried over nothing. None of them seemed to judge her, and Arthur even repeated his offer to save her from Bruce.

Again, Bruce had merely rolled his eyes and pulled her away, bidding Arthur a pointed goodnight.

Lois and Clark had even invited them both to breakfast the following morning.

Christine smiled as she took a sip of the tea that spread a warmth down to her belly and she wiggled her bare toes against the chilly Gotham air. She could feel goosebumps erupting over her arms and legs but was still unwilling to sacrifice the cleansing cold breaths she felt purging her system of any lingering stress.

She was therefore very grateful when a warm, solid body pressed itself against her back and Bruce’s strong arms wound around her waist, protecting her from the cold outside.

“Looking for the Bat Signal?” Bruce murmured into her ear, making her shiver at the contrast of his warm breath against her cool skin.

“No,” she giggled, stroking her free hand along his forearms, “you handled the Batman thing really well. It’s actually been the reason for several failed relationships.”

“Ah, so that’s why they brought it up.” he laughed, his chest rumbling soothingly against her back.

She hummed in agreement and allowed herself to sink back into his arms. When Bruce nuzzled against her neck, she tilted her head to allow him more access, sighing in happiness as his lips made contact with her bare skin.

“Thank you.” she murmured, “For tonight. I was scared I ruined everything.”

“No.” he assured her, tightening his grip, “You lasted longer than I would have.”

At his acceptance, Christine filed the rest of the conversation under ‘Things to Discuss Tomorrow’ and surrendered herself to Bruce to make her feel as good as possible. 

As he snagged the mug from her grip to set it on the nearby table, Christine turned to face him and wound her arms around his neck. She coaxed him down into a soft kiss of gratitude. She was starkly aware of how Bruce was holding her like a fragile doll. The events of the night had clearly affected him more than he let on. 

She pulled away and smiled softly at him. The tender look in his eyes melted her heart and made her ache. Taking his hands in hers she pulled him towards the bed, grinning coyly before shoving him down on the covers. She moved to quickly climb on top of him but was startled as he wound his arm around her and flipped her to be the one underneath him. 

A soft giggle escaped her as Bruce buried his face into the crook of her neck before he slowly worked his lips down towards her chest. Softly running her fingers though his hair she hummed in pleasure at the reverent kisses being bestowed on her skin. 

Bruce gently manipulated her entire being as he maneuvered her to positions that allowed him to remove her clothes from her body. She shivered as the chilled air from the open terrace doors allowed the autumn air to nip her skin, pebbling her nipples and making her aware of the warmth settling low in her stomach.

She was left exposed for a few seconds longer than she felt was strictly needed as Bruce stood to quickly divest himself of his own clothes. She had a brief battle in her head between lamenting the loss of the vision of Bruce Wayne in a tailored suit - she really loved that waistcoat - and enjoying the sight of his bare form before her. His muscles rippled underneath lightly tanned skin as he moved, making her mouth water and her legs quiver. 

Her eyes roamed over the available flesh on display and she silently noted, as she always did, the scars that marked his body; pale interruptions in the otherwise smooth, tanned skin. Some were long and thin, others were small bursts while a few were clearly from various broken bones. Bruce had explained the marks as his love of adrenaline fuelled sports. An offer of taking her skydiving had prevented any more prying into the origins of the marks.

Bruce interrupted her musings by crawling back onto the bed, pushing her feet apart to situate himself between them. Smirking softly at her he gripped her ankles and raised one leg to allow him to place soft, sweet kisses to her skin. Her back arched gently and her fingers gripped the pillows behind her as he slowly moved his lips up her leg, paying special attention to the sensitive skin just behind her knee. By the time he had worked her way up to her core, her breathing had been reduced to short shallow gasps of need. His tender touches doing everything possible to pull at her heart. 

Bruce suddenly stopped and pressed his forehead against her stomach, absorbing the feeling of her rapidly contracting muscles as she struggled for breath. Taken aback by the sudden stop Christine raised up onto her elbows to look down at him. She hooked a finger under his chin to force him to look up at her. Her breath caught at the veneration in his gaze.

“Hey.” she prompted softly “It’s ok.”

Her gentle assurance worked as Bruce moved quickly to capture her lips in a hard kiss. She took advantage of his new position to wrap her legs around him and grind her core against his hard length. She felt Bruce smile against her lips at her not-so-subtle hint and he snaked a hand between them to line himself up with her entrance.

Breaking the kiss, Bruce pressed his forehead against hers. 

“Look at me.” he breathed.

Upon following the order, she was rewarded with him finally sliding inside her. She winced softly at the stretch of his girth, but still managed to reach up and cup his face, desperate to remain in the pool of his eyes; even if they drowned her.

They writhed together on the bed. Pushing each other to the ultimate completion and revelling in the touch of skin, sharing of kisses and shortness of breath. She tumbled over the edge before him, the cresting wave releasing all tension from her body as she twitched with pleasure. Her moaning gasps spurred Bruce on until his own euphoria washed over him, and he shuddered over her, snapping his hips harder to chase the last vestiges of pleasure.

Neither of them spoke in the silence after. All words were translated to soft touches and playful kisses as they cleaned up and settled back into the bed, this time under the covers. Once Bruce had gotten back up to shut the terrace doors, they finally allowed the day to slip into the past as they fell quickly into a deep slumber.

******************************

Gentle kisses pressed over her face roused her from what felt like 20 minutes of sleep.

“5 more minutes.” she moaned, burying herself into the warm pillows.

Bruce clearly wasn’t going to take that for an answer as he kept up the rousing assault on her skin. She squirmed tiredly, trying to get away, weakly trying to push his lips away from her skin.   
Bruce responded to this by slowly dragging the covers off her body.

Giving up on the battle to remain asleep, Christine cracked open an eye… to a completely dark room.

“Bruce! What time is it?!” she snapped, annoyed at the clearly very little time she’d been allowed to remain in dreamland. “You do realise that you were supposed to tire me out and actually let me sleep!”

Bruce tried and failed not to outright laugh at her disgruntled rant and proceeded to fling a sweater and a pair of yoga pants at her.

“Look out the window.” he told her.

Frowning in confusion, she twisted inelegantly to face said windows.

And grinned.

There, shining brightly, was Gotham’s own cry for help as the Bat Signal lit up the dark night sky.

Tiredness forgotten, she grabbed the clothes Bruce flung to her and pulled them on, almost falling out the bed. She had long since stopped waiting up for the Bat Signal, electing to try and move past her mental crutch of knowing Batman was out on streets. But, even now, the circle of light infected her with the same joy any person felt when seeing an old friend.

Bruce was laughing softly as he watched her grab her shoes and run towards the doors that led out to the balcony. Then he stopped her. 

Christine’s joy was momentarily stunted as Bruce’s arm wound around her waist to expertly twist her towards him, effectively halting her sprint towards the exit. Her bright smile faded slightly as she caught sight of his face. His lips were still curled up in a fond smile at her enthusiasm, but his eyes were different. While still reflecting his amusement, Bruce’s gaze was tinged was something else; Sadness? Doubt? Hesitance? 

Christine felt her gut twist. Had it all been a show? Was Bruce not ok with her idolising The Batman? Was she about to hear the same lead in to a break up speech she’d heard so many times before? If Bruce wasn’t ok with it, why had he woken her? 

Had he thought it was fine but her overtly excited response at the sight of the Bat Signal changed his mind?

It had happened before.

“Bruce?” she prompted, in a brittle croak.

He still didn’t speak, his penetrating gaze searched her features, clearly trying to come to some sort of decision. His hand rose up to tenderly move a lock of hair out of her face, twirling the soft strands between his fingers. 

Allowing desperation to take over she pushed herself onto her toes and crashed her lips to his. She felt his hands cup her jaw as he returned her adore but the knot in her gut tightened as he gently pushed her back much sooner than he normally would. 

Not willing to give up, her hands quickly located and gripped his wrists, not allowing him to let her go. 

“Hey, it’s ok.” he said, finally realising the panic his actions had induced in her. “It’s just…”

He heaved a deep sigh and pressed his forehead against hers, staring deep into her eyes. 

“Come with me.” he finally finished.

Gently, but firmly, separating them, the only contact Bruce allowed them to have was her hand firmly clasped in his as he led them out of the room. Christine kept silent as she followed him down the corridor to the lavish library she’d come to adore.

Still not looking back at her, Bruce led her up to the ornate grandfather clock that was ticking softly in the corner. Now fully bewildered she watched as he reached up to manipulate the hands of the clock to read 10:48.

She jumped and latched onto his arm when a loud click resonated throughout the quiet room, and watched through wide eyes as a large section of the wall behind the clock suddenly disappeared.

“Bruce?” she questioned, her voice a confused squeak.

“Please.” he started, finally glancing back at her “Just … trust me.”

And, inexplicably, she did. Despite everything being presented to her, she simply nodded and clung tighter to his hand as he led her down a dark set of stone stairs. Because there was one thing she knew for certain. 

When it came to the man in front of her: she was safe.


End file.
